Cuffs On My Wrist

[Intro]
Street intel unit on my back
Eyes in the alleys
Eyes in the cracks
(yeah)
[Verse 1]
They keep circlin’ my block
Same black whip, same slow crawl
Ask ’bout the one who used to serve
I tell ’em I don’t talk at all
Cut them ties like a bad vein
Burned that bridge, can’t cross again
They fishing round in my pain
Tryna pull a face from my brain
Cold room, flicker in the light
Question after question all night
"Who supplied you? Where he stay?"
Stare at the table, look away
Heart thump, but my jaw set
Sweat drip, but I don’t bend yet
They want names, want my life cheap
I keep quiet, let my teeth grit deep
[Chorus]
Cuffs on my wrist, I ain’t sayin’ a name
Rather sit down than sell out the game
You want my old plug? Better pray, better wish
’Cause I’d die ’fore I snitch, cuffs cuttin’ my wrist
Cuffs on my wrist, but my soul ain’t chained
Tried to break me, tried to twist my brain
Asked for a name, I just tighten my fist
"I said no"—then they snapped them cuffs on my wrist
[Verse 2]
They bring up old photos, old sins
Prints on the table, cold grins
"Help us and we help you walk"
But I see traps in the way they talk
Promise deals, promise less time
That’s just bait wrapped up in a line
Clock tick loud in that stale air
They poke scars that ain’t even there
Think of moms, think of my kids
Think of all the dirt that we did
If I point one finger to live
How many families I’ll split
So I shake my head, "That’s dead"
They slam hands, push me, see red
Next thing metal kiss my skin
Hear that click, feel ’em dig in
[Chorus]
Cuffs on my wrist, I ain’t sayin’ a name
Rather sit down than sell out the game
You want my old plug? Better pray, better wish
’Cause I’d die ’fore I snitch, cuffs cuttin’ my wrist
Cuffs on my wrist, but my soul ain’t chained
Tried to break me, tried to twist my brain
Asked for a name, I just tighten my fist
"I said no"—then they snapped them cuffs on my wrist

rap, Aggressive trap beat at 140 BPM, heavy 808s and sharp hi-hats, dark detuned bells and eerie pads. Male vocals with a raw, close-mic grit; verses spit in a tight pocket, hook opens with layered gang-style shouts. Ad-libs echo deep, beat stutters and filters in moments of tension then slams back in on the title line.